Am i a joke to you
There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man. A dragon of waning adolescence, coming on adulthood. At worst they could be described as a dysfunctional hybrid, and at best wholly unspectacular. They possess no colour-changing ability, no venom, no prehensile tail. They are wormlike, slender and unremarkable, with olive scales, draping frills, and messy spines sweeping across their face. Their eyes are almond brown and quizzical, and the ghost filigree of crow's feet, budding wisdom, form a crest around their face when they smile. They are modest in fashion, preferring to dress in coarse cotton and undyed linen. Plain, they are, mundane and monotonous, like bread, porridge, barley tea. ※ The beast was harmless and horrible... (Lord of the Flies, Golding) They are selfish. Their highest interest is themself, though not for reasons of vanity. They do not want money, nor love or beauty, not even to taste from the tree of knowledge. They act accord their own path of self-actualization; they do what they must for self-preservation. It is the primal need to survive — there is no we in I. That being said, hubris is their hamartia. They are eccentric, eclectic, pedantic, a bit neurotic and entirely bothersome; gnat-like in disposition, or that of a roach, or a rat. They tear apart the semantics of sentences for entertainment, and annoy with no end to stimulate their mercurial mind. Their eye for detail is not used for good, but then they talk too much and are far too cruel to be considered "good". Still, they are naturally affectionate and playful, almost childlike in their desire to please. They are a curious child, then, scared by little, but the little they fear _. They fear their utility will be lost. They fear they will be dismissed, discarded, thrown away like a _. They toil not so much for they enjoy work, but because productivity bandages their feelings of being a burden. sincere but disingenuous, It could be said that they love, love too much. They tend to avoid conflict, and despise being forced to take sides, especially in a disagreement between allies. impartial They are not hateful, even to those who hold opposing beliefs. They respect the opinions of others as long as they do not attack or exploit marginalized groups, and try not to speak ill of anyone... out loud. They are firm on that respect is earned rather than given; they worship nothing and will continue not to do so. ※ Alai saw the tears but had the grace not to say so. (Ender's Game, Card) They are crepuscular in activity, a coincidental fusion of diurnal RainWings and nocturnal NightWings. Time eludes them like a talonful of water, and they are forever left to chase deadlines. They tend to be absentminded. Not dumb, per se, but they lack in short-term memory, information processing, and executive function. They're foolish, curious, and ambitious, an idealistic realist yet to define their place in this world. concerns is that their utility will be lost, leading to an imminent disposal. Workaholism is not so much for they enjoy work, but because productivity bandages their feelings of being a burden. They are meticulously clean but hopelessly disorganized. didnt inherit tribal abilities but works better at night. also perceives time differently "Privacy", while obsolete in the modern ages, is a standard they quietly defend. They respect personal boundaries and will honour rules set by others, as long as they agree with them. Being caught snooping in their possessions or "psychoanalyzing" will immediately dampen your relationship; they could've answered your questions directly without the invasion of personal space, and betraying their trust is not something they take lightly. Releasing confidential information under the intention of defamation, or general calumny, will bring you very close to the thin line between their patience and being a waste of their time. ※ In the chaos of grief and remorse that filled his mind it was the one articulate word. (Brave New World, Huxley) Weary of their unaccepting family, Semicolon moved away from the Rainforest to the budding establishments of Springwood, settling into a parchmenter's guild where they live to this day. They make writing medium for a living and rarely leave their workshop, save to run errands. While they love their town and craft, they admit it can get lonely sometimes... text ※